Of Valkyries and Princes
by CharonicImpulse
Summary: They set off from the Holy Court of Rausten carrying the only hope Magvel has. Demons hound their every step, physical or otherwise. In this grim setting there's no way love can bloom right? Fate is funny like that.


_The woman I love burns with jealousy, _  
_leaps to conclusions, cries, and turns to ice. _  
_But when she laughs, the world is mine_

**-Yusaku Godai**

* * *

She had just dozed off, they had traveled for some time. Ephraim had pushed his army with single minded determination to end this war. Until, reluctantly, after a day of hard marching and boredom he called for the army to stop. Exhausted in both body and mind crushingly bored, the coalition forces had decided to camp with the Judeanea mountain range towards their back. Those who drew build duty set about to create their fortifications with much groaning and cursing. Those like L'arachel who had morning shift settled down to sleep, or tried to as moments after the palisade's completion, lookouts sounded horns. They were coming.

L'arachel's weariness left within moments of her actual awakening. The quiet of the night had been replaced with the moans of the dammed, the soft chirping of the spiders, the putrid smell of demonic flesh, and the flapping of wings. She felt, rather than saw a familiar shadow appear outside her tent. Sure enough there stood Dozla in full battle gear (which, to be honest, was pretty much just a pauldron and pants), the man never strayed far from her, even when she slept.

"The condemned rise once more do they?" A wicked grin spread across Dozla's face as his massive paws dropped to the twin axes at his belt.

"Oh yes, Milady. They hunger, and it is my humble opinion that we destroy them with extreme prejudice. A slice here, a lopped off head there, a righteous slaughter indeed!" Dozla finished with a hearty laugh, or maybe it was bloodthirsty. Hard to tell with berserkers of his caliber, soldiers to whom slaughter was as familiar and intimate as a lover.

L'Arachel's grin matched her most loyal vassal's in both length and eagerness.

"Indeed! A most holy purging! When we finish there will be naught but ash! Find Rennac and a squad of my Slayers. We will meet at the deploying zone yes?"

She couldn't help a wry smile as she watched her dearest friend and surrogate father lope off. Dozla may have heard that, he may have not. She was never certain, but she didn't really care. She would find him where the fight was the thickest anyways.

Rushing to her feet, Ivaldi in one hand and a rare flame wood stave in the other she raced to Radiance, her loyal mare's side, and in a most un-lady like fashion, mounted in a fluid motion. She'd liked to think that an invading zombie force would take precedence over her modesty, but there were some...conservative members in the coalition army. Like that Kyle fellow. Besides, it's not like her normal clothing really offered any more protection than her sleep wear.

* * *

As Radiance trotted to the staging area she could not but help but over hear some of the men that only hours ago cursed the tyrant, Ephraim, and his seemingly inhumane order to create the palisade that surrounded their camp. They were now praising Ephraims foresight, praising his brilliant strategies, his level head, his-

"Why would anyone want to praise that idiot?" L'arachel blurted before she dug her heels into her mare's side. Fools she thought.

Ephraim…he haunted her dreams, her thoughts and she couldn't even escape him in her waking moments either. The crown prince of Renais was an infuriating savage, ripping off his armor to assault her with his well muscled body, those toned arms, those scars, those muscles…mocking her with that deep voice. A voice that could be heard above the din of combat, or lower to a velvety, sensual tone that sent shivers down the spine of women…which he better not use against other women...

"L'arachel? Magvel to L'arachel" A light voice returned L'arachel from her reverie, yes her reverie, as there would be no way that a lady of her caliber would swoon over that, idiotic, savage, handsome, competent, buffoon.

"Yes Sister Natascha?"

"Perhaps you would do more good going to the staging area instead of swooning over a certain man" she chided gently.

"D-don't be absurd Sister, that...that Ephraim is no match for my radiance!"

"Of course not milady," Natascha smiled sweetly "though I find it strange that you would mention that him seeing as I never mentioned a name."

L'arachel was doing her best impression of a fish as Natasha moved on ahead. Even Natasha knew? A visible aura of gloom pervaded L'aracahel's immediate area as nature itself deemed it appropriate to aid in her depression by supplying a localized chill breeze. It looked like the only person who didn't know was the man himself. The frustration the poor lass felt was akin to the frustration Seth felt when Eirika refused to wear something other than a breastplate, her skirt and those outrageously red boots into combat. Seriously, who wears red boots?

* * *

Those with pre-established posts rushed to them, those who didn't served as flying companies under the command of one of the many Generals in the coalition army. The forces of evil were too unpredictable, so static defenses were generally relegated to an initial line of defense, as revenants, centaur, and the like usually materialized at will. Flying companies were the way to go. Fortunately, Lute and Artur had managed to create a series of wards that would prevent the forces of evil from warping en masse into the camp. Some of the more magically inclined monsters got past, but others had no choice but to attack the palisades and moats.

As she reached the center of the camp, L'arachel spotted General Duessel, covered in bandages, directing the auxiliaries.

"Where do you need me General?"

Duessel simply pointed north without looking up from the map on the table.

"Ephraim drew guard duty and is being pushed hardest as," A timely cough "someone refused to guard the north funnel with him and left him with only one Sacred Twin. His men are hard pressed, but he manages to keep the line stable. Go."

"Eh? E-Ephraim? But-"

Whatever she planned to say next was lost as the wizened general slammed his fist on the table.

"We have no time for your petty grievances!" He roared" Go! or hand Ivaldi over to Artur and go back to your tent! With his wyvern stone he can easily match your magic!"

With a sigh of resignation and a slight bow acquiescence, L'arachel nudged Radiance onwards, Rennac and a squad of Raust Slayers at her side.

* * *

Ephraim was not one for complaining. He had taken the news of his home's downfall stoically, he had no time for tears. He soldiered on when he learned that his best friend was the source of all evil. He fought in each and all of his battles with his emotions in check, choosing the best course of action unfettered by rage or sadness. He had slain the Fleurspar, a honorable foe who bore him no ill will and was simply doing her duty. He had withstood much pain to get this far, to lead the last, and best hope Magvel had. Having shed neither tear nor had had an outburst. As a leader of Magvel's only remaining army he had to present a calm, assured front. But for the first time in this entire war, he felt like placing his head on a rock and letting Boyd smash his head into a pulp.

Why exactly was his gate the only one that has twenty Cyclopi? A zombie dragon? A tidal wave of Geists? A murder of Gargoyles? It also didn't 't help that he couldn't see out of his right eye, courtesy of one L'arachel, who had walked upon him bathing a day before. She hadn't taken it well, and threw a light tome at him... with remarkable accuracy. Not only that, but she had somehow made it so all the healers were unwilling to treat him. She was the most confounding woman he had ever met. Had he done something in his youth that warranted this ridiculous state of affairs?

He wheeled Victory around as Siegmund burst into flames, outlining both spear, master and mount as he rallied his troops. Digging his heels into Victory's flanks, Ephraim led Renais' finest cavalry forces into a charge that slammed into the evil forces around them. Forde and Kyle at his side, he scattered the Cyclopian vanguard before him, the flaming spear in his hands creating an aura that burned them to the bone. Flames lashed out as if with a will of it's own, purging the world one eldritch abomination at a time. Rallying at the sight of their leader turning all in front of him into ash, the north gate forces surged forth once more, no longer content to simply defend, charging forth from the twin diamond formation in front of the gate. The bloody battle descended into even more chaos. Which is why no one had noticed them.

They had a simple task. Hunt for the meat-leaders. Those with the strongest scents. Hungry, they howled before being silenced by pack-leader. Sight-Smells flood all three heads before one stood above the rest, powerful. Pack-leader let loose a howl. They stalked their way through the battlefield. They were hungry and they were coming. Gwyllgi, the silent hunters.

* * *

AN:

Hopefully part one of this story set. Not enough L'arachel/Ephraim 'fics, a fact I hope to remedy.

I took several liberties regarding the characters. In my mind Lute and L'arachel are roughly equal in strength magic-wise. I also decided to give each Sacred Twin a special ability, I always thought it was somewhat of a let down that they weren't given special properties.

Read and Review if you would, love it? hate it? wanna discuss Eirika's awesome red boots? leave a comment!


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